


The Holly and the Ivy

by die_traumerei



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Ending, Huddling For Warmth, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Power Outage, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Stucky Week 2016, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8894014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Steve Rogers *cannot stand* the asshole florist across the street. He's gorgeous and perfect and totally rude and uncaring about important things. He's probably just a vain, pretty idiot.Bucky Barnes will talk for *hours* about how the asshole who runs the coffee shop across the street drives him crazy. All he does is make shitty vegan cake and basically perform this whole caring act. He's super hot and perfect and Bucky can. not. stand him.Really, a Christmas party thrown by Bucky's business partner leads to the totally inevitable.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Soft Stucky Week 2016, the writing challenge MADE FOR ME. Also doubling as a sweet, fuzzy Christmas fic. 2016 was a dumpster fire guys, take care of yourselves and I hope this makes you smile :)
> 
> Small note: Bucky has a relatively low-key unspecified eating disorder. He manages it, but it does come up and is A Thing. Likewise, Steve talks about suicidal feelings/past, but it's a relatively minor moment.

“Oh my _God_ you should see what he's doing now,” Bucky reported from the window where he was putting up their last-minute Christmas display, specifically fine-tuned for a harried upper-class woman who has just learned that her in-laws are coming to dinner and she has only money to throw at the problem. Lots of money. To give to Bucky. For, admittedly, a floral display to make even the iciest Boston brahmin flinch in approval.

“Holy shitting fuck, someday you are gonna get a life and I will go into a nunnery and dedicate the rest of my life to Jesus in thanks.”

“Nat, I love how you pretend to not be the dramatic one,” Bucky said, adjusting a sprig of holly.

“What is your sworn enemy doing now?” Nat asked, sighing.

“He's putting up the cheesiest paper chains he _clearly_ made himself and also a big sign saying he's closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas to give his employees the day off,” Bucky reported.

“You're closed for the _exact same reason_ ,” Nat said.

“Yeah, but I don't gotta rub everyone's nose in it.” Bucky glared at the giant slab of all-American beef who was wearing a stupid little tiny apron that probably wasn't big enough to cover his dick. He was standing on something inside the big bay windows that fronted his bakery/coffee shop, and pinning up his chain. The chain was a series of boy and girl silhouettes holding hands.

Bucky Barnes disliked Steve Rogers more than he had disliked anyone, ever, in the history of the world. He found Steve totally stuck-up, standoffish, annoying, self-righteous and totally obnoxious. Steve was judgmental and dickish, argumentative and generally totally irritating. Bucky had  _tried_ when he first moved in and his store opened up. Their little town was, well, little, with a single street for the business district. But it was a cute street, and a nice enough place to live, and Bucky had tried, he really had.

What he'd  _gotten_ was a lecture on fair wages, an exhaustive explanation of how Steve's shop only used organic-certified raw goods and how his friend baked everything on premises, and they were looking into roasting their own coffee. Bucky mentally checked out when Steve started to explain the Ugandan farmers cooperative he bought directly from, and okay. He might have been a tiny bit rude in leaving, but you couldn't blame a guy. He'd come by with a welcome bouquet of roses and ivy, and gotten a sniffy note that English ivy was an invasive species, which. Bucky had a degree in horticulture, he  _knew_ .

Also, their vegan cake was frankly nasty.

(Nat was friends with one of the employees there, and reported that Darcy had told her that Steve often loudly told her about how he never wanted to have to look at Bucky again, which pleased Bucky so much he bought them a bottle of vodka to share on their next night hanging out together.)

Bucky sniffed in the general direction of the bakery, and dumbass Steve Rogers, and turned back to the shop. They had three centerpieces that had to be done and ready for pick-up by the end of the day,  _plus_ a Christmas Eve wedding bouquet that still needed design approval.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my God, he's still there. Why does he work such stupid hours,” Steve complained as he locked up the shop. Full darkness had fallen, of course, hours ago – it was the night before the winter solstice. “I hope he's paying Nat overtime.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Not that it's any of your business, but they  _are_ co-owners. And they don't open until way late in the morning anyway. Not that many people need a bouquet of roses on the way to work, y'know?”

“No one would need it, if they knew what kind of human labor went into harvesting roses,” Steve said, turning and heading down the street. He only lived a few blocks away; Darcy only a little bit further.

Darcy sighed. “ _Anyway_ . You sure you won't need me tomorrow?”

“Nah. Sam can pitch in with me if I need help.” Steve smiled at her. “The morning rush can suck it. You doing an interview for an internship is more important.”

“Thanks, boss. I'll be in as soon as I can,” Darcy promised.

“Take your time, weather's supposed to turn messy. You okay walking home?” Steve asked, the way he always asked.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I'll be fine. See you tomorrow, Steve.”

“See you, Darcy.”

Steve turned towards his little house at the end of the block, and let himself into the cold, dark rooms. He shivered a little and turned on the heat – low, but enough to warm the place up a little bit.

Steve chopped seitan and threw it in a wok with some veggies and a nice, spicy sauce. That over rice would make dinner and leave enough for lunch the next day – nice and good and healthy.

He wondered briefly what Bucky was having for dinner, and then shut that line of thought down; bitchily daydreaming about inorganic steaks and big fried potato wedges was a little bit beyond him, even.

Steve also wondered, just for a moment, if Bucky had friends to cook for, or with. A girlfriend, or maybe a boyfriend? He was really handsome. Probably a lot of people liked that. Steve highly doubted that Bucky was cooking alone that night.

 

Bucky pulsed the hand blender, then once more for good measure. He washed the bladed part, and then faced down his enemy.

“All right. You count as food tonight, so you're getting in me,” Bucky informed the big, thick smoothie. “Whether either of us like it or not.” He took the tall cup and wandered into his bedroom, curling up in the cozy chair next to a bookcase. The light was on, warm and yellow, and he opened up _The Lord of the Rings_ to where he'd left off. He could drink dinner while he distracted himself, and get some calories into him at least. Tomorrow would be a better food day.

_You need me to come over?_ a text from Nat came a half-hour later. 

_Nah, I'm ok. Got a smoothie. Thanks tho._

_Cool beans. See you tomorrow, honey._

_See you :)_

Bucky smiled and set his phone down. Nat had picked up on things, then. She was a good bro, even if she did insist that he had a weird obsessive grudge against Steve. Not liking someone was  _not_ the same as a grudge, and anyway as long as Steve kept sniping at him, he'd bitch back. Fair was fair.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Bucky! Good morning!”

“You're chipper,” Bucky said, eyeing Nat. “Why are you chipper.”

“Because I'm throwing a Christmas party tonight, and you're invited.” Nat grinned at him. “You'll come, right?”

“Since when were you throwing a Christmas party?” Bucky asked. “On a Tuesday?”

“Since Darcy and I had the idea last night. C'mon, it'll be fun,” she wheedled.

“Uh. Okay. Sure. Should I...bring anything?” he hazarded.

“Just yourself!” Nat chirped.

Natasha Romanov had never chirped before in her life. Bucky side-eyed her all day, but she didn't reveal a thing.

 

* * *

 

“Hey boss, you busy tonight?” Darcy asked, once the last of the morning rush had cleared away. Steve had only just managed on his own, in her opinion.

“No, why? You need something?” he asked, wiping down the espresso machine.

“Just for you to come to my friend's Christmas party!”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Your _friend's_ party?”

“Yeah! I need a date. C'mon, it'll be fun.” Darcy clasped her hands under her chin. “Please?”

“Uh, sure. I mean, yeah. If you want me to?”

“That's why I asked you, dope. It'll be way fun.” Darcy grinned at him. “We can bring the unsold mini-cupcakes.”

“Uh. Okay,” Steve said. “That sounds good.”

“Awesome! Hey, you'll get to meet people, it'll be fun.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Steve said, and managed a smile. “It'll be great.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky knocked on Nat's front door exactly fifteen minutes after she'd told him to be there.

“Hi! C'mon in,” she said. “You're not even the last to arrive.”

“Dammit, you know I needed to make my...entrance,” Bucky said, trailing off when he followed Nat down the hall and into her living room. “Um. Hi.”

Steve Rogers looked up from a plate of crudites. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi Bucky! Glad you could make it!” Darcy bounced between the two of them. “Deviled egg?”

“Um, thank you.” Bucky took one delicately. Today was a good food day, thankfully. “How're you doing?”

“Can't complain. I'm waiting to hear back about an internship.”

“Hey, that's awesome!” Darcy was a sweetheart. Bucky had only met her a handful of times, but he'd liked her instantly. “What're you studying?”

“Astrophysics.”

Bucky's jaw actually dropped. “No fuckin' way. You're so cool.” He looked up to try and find Nat, and was startled to see Steve actually smiling at the two of them. Well, would wonders never cease.

Maybe that was what emboldened him to try small talk. That, and the fact that he and Steve appeared to be the only guests at the party so far. Bucky would definitely have to ask Nat about that. Also about the fact that the sole decoration was a cardboard Santa head, nailed to the wall.

“These cupcakes are great,” he said, nibbling on one. “Red velvet's my favorite. Thanks.”

“Uh, you're welcome. Yeah, I really like making that flavor.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “They're real healthy, I make 'em with coconut oil.”

“Oh, cool. So. Uh. Eating healthy is...really important to you?” Bucky hazarded. He took another tiny nibble, not really wanting to eat in front of Judgey McJudgerson, but he needed to keep up appearances. Also, it _was_ really good.

Steve nodded earnestly. “I mean, you're putting it  _into your body_ . It's so important, and eating well makes such a huge difference. I went vegetarian and never looked back, you know? And it's amazing, to see what crap is in processed food.” He made a face. “And all those additives. They're not real food.”

Bucky thought about the protein powder he mixed into his smoothies. “Um. I guess.” He laughed a little. “I guess I always figured I might as well enjoy myself. You only live once.” He smiled a little, fighting through the queasy feeling as he nibbled a little more on the cupcake. “F'r instance. If I denied myself this, and got hit by a car on the way home, I'd have died without knowing how good this was.”

Steve frowned. “That's not funny.”

Bucky sighed. “Sorry. Uh, I think Nat needs me. Thanks for bringing cupcakes.”

“You're welcome,” Steve said stiffly, and Bucky all but ran across the room.

“Oh my _God_ ,” he hissed. “He's so _weird_.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.”

“He is! He's got a stick up his ass like you wouldn't believe.” Bucky sighed and looked at the half a tiny cupcake in his hand. Half a mouthful. Not even that. “You wanna finish this? It's really good.”

Nat's eyes softened. “Thanks, honey.” She took the half and popped it in her mouth. “Umm, yeah, it's good. Thanks for sharing.”

Bucky gave her a weak smile. “Yeah, you know me. Generous to a fault.”

“Bite my ass,” Nat said, and elbowed him.

“Hey Bucky!” Darcy said. “Nat says she's got a fake tree in the basement, come and help me carry it up?”

“Uh. Okay, sure. If you want.” Bucky smiled at her, trying to be friendly. _He_ could be the nice guy at least. Even if he wasn't super-great at carrying shit.

“It's somewhere along the back wall,” Nat said, over her shoulder, heading for Steve. “Long, super-light box. Think there's some decorations down there too.”

“Jeez, that's what the entrails of our enemies are for,” Darcy grumbled, as she and Bucky headed down the steep, dusty stairs.

They found the tree pretty easily, but Darcy stopped him first with a hand on his arm. “Hey,” she said quietly. “I know you didn't mean anything by it, but Steve's super-sensitive about those kinds of jokes. Both his parents died pretty young, and he was really sick as a kid.”

“Oh my God. I didn't know. I'm sorry,” Bucky said, a little shocked at himself. “Shit. Oh, _shit_.”

“Hey, it's okay. You didn't mean anything.” She smiled at him. “Just so you know in future. That's kind of part of why he's a health nut too.”

Bucky nodded. “I won't...I won't joke about it or anything again. Poor guy, that really sucks.”

“Uh huh.” Darcy grinned at him, all cheek and sweetness again. “C'mon, enough downer stuff. Let's find the ornaments.”

Bucky smiled back at her. “No more downer stuff,” he agreed. “I'll check this pile of boxes, you check that one, okay?”

“Deal,” Darcy said, and started on her dusty pile, while Bucky hunted through a particularly dark corner.

 

As soon as Bucky had cleared the stairs, Nat made a beeline for Steve. “Dude,” she said quietly. “Do not talk about food with Bucky.”

“What? Why not?” Steve demanded. He was just trying to be _friendly_ , why did people suck so much?

Nat sighed. “Jesus. Look. This isn't really my business to tell, but Bucky...has problems with food. And eating. And you being kind of judgy about food? Does not help him eat.” She fixed him with a very steady look. “Steve, I know you didn't mean to be a dick, which is why I'm not throwing you out of my house. But Bucky couldn't even finish like a tablespoon of cake, because he was so stressed. Do not stress my friend out more. Find something else to talk about.”

“Oh,” Steve said, a thick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. “I'm sorry, Nat. I really am. I didn't...know.” Bucky was gorgeous. Healthy and strong, moved easily, laughed easily. Had friends and a good life, from what Steve had seen. “I'm sorry. I won't ever do that again.”

“Good.” She smiled. “You guys are really similar in a lot of ways, you know?”

“I...okay?” Steve hazarded, and then Bucky and Darcy were coming up from the basement, Bucky holding a long box with a picture of the finished tree on it kind of awkwardly while Darcy hugged a big box of ornaments.

“Jesus tapdancing Christ, guys,” Nat said. “The idea was you were supposed to work _together_.”

“We are,” they said in chorus, and giggled.

Steve bit down a curl of jealousy. Bucky was  _not_ stealing his only real friend in this town.

“Here,” Nat sighed, and took one end of the box, Bucky shifting so he only held it with his right arm. Steve noticed that his left didn't quite straighten out at his side, and was a little thinner around the bicep.

He also noticed that Bucky's right arm was nicely muscled under the thin sweater he was wearing.

“You okay?” he asked quietly a moment later, helping Bucky pull out the tiers of greenery that made up the tree, while Darcy and Nat set up the base.

“Yeah.” Bucky looked surprised, then smiled at him. “I was in a bad accident a couple years ago, got kind of a bum arm. But it's all good.”

“Good. I'm sorry you got hurt,” Steve said, because he was. He wasn't an _asshole_.

Well, not much of one, anyway.

“Thanks. Me too.” Bucky hesitated, and smiled shyly. “I'm sorry if what I said earlier hurt you. I would never have said it, if...I'm sorry.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve could feel himself turning red. “It's nothing. I'm too sensitive.”

“Hey, no. You got a right to your feelings,” Bucky said. “Oh, here, this one's in your pile,” he said, handing a branch over.

Steve took it silently, feeling kind of numb. Bucky was...nice, actually. When you came down to it.

Bucky was also, Steve learned, a gigantic pain in the ass about properly winding lights around the tree. They bickered over the pattern to wind in, and bickered over whether they should untangle all the lights at the beginning (Steve's opinion) or as they went (Bucky's). They started to bicker over where to put the tree, but Nat stepped in on that, by virtue of it being her house.

She also shoved glasses of mulled wine into their hands, and with the lights untangled and Bucky's winding technique chosen – things weren't so bad. The warm, spicy wine warmed Steve's belly. The way Bucky made Nat and Darcy laugh might have warmed his belly too.

He had to reach over Bucky to adjust one of the higher branches, and was stunned at the sudden hit of – something. Bucky was barely an inch shorter than him, muscular (but then, so was Steve), but having his back felt right. Protective. Just for a moment, just a flash, then Steve lowered his arm, which brushed against the softness of Bucky's sweater.

“All good?” Bucky asked, a little impatient.

Steve swallowed, and remembered how to be a person. And also that standing this close was super-creepy, so he all but leapt back, giving Bucky his personal space. “Yeah. Uh, sorry. All good.”

Bucky gave him a weird look, and Steve turned, cheeks burning, to tend to the decorations.

“Hey Nat, just out of curiosity, anybody else coming?” Bucky asked, fixing the last of the lights in place.

“Tony Stark might,” Nat called from the kitchen where she was freshening her drink.

“Oh. Great,” Bucky said flatly.

“Please God no,” Steve said aloud, and they turned to look at each other.

“You hate him too?” Bucky asked delightedly.

“Hate's a really strong word...” Steve said.

“And therefore an appropriate one?” When Bucky grinned, his eyes crinkled up.

Steve was surprised into a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Bucky shrugged, and headed for the food table. “More for me, anyway,” he said, and Steve was shocked at how happy he was, seeing Bucky dig into the food and unwrap another cupcake. He'd make a whole tray tomorrow, take it to the flower shop. Or wait. Was that overkill? Most things Steve did were overkill. Maybe he'd just bring a little plate for Bucky and Nat to share. And some really nice coffee, so even if Bucky didn't feel like eating, he'd have something warm and good. That was fair.

 

The rest of the night was a little awkward, but they both avoided any more really awful gaffes, and they left together, walking in silence through the icy streets.

“I'm just over on Green,” Bucky said.

“No way – I think I'm around the corner from you,” Steve said.Was this trying? Well, then he was trying.

“Huh. Well. It's a small town and all.”

Steve hummed an agreement, and then they fell back into grateful silence until Bucky slowed and stopped.

“Well, uh. This is my place,” he said. “It was good talking with you, Steve.”

“You too,” Steve said, sounding relieved. “Um. Have a good night.”

“You too.” Bucky gave kind of a little wave and let himself in the front gate.

Steve watched him get in the front door, then kept going to his little house which was, indeed, just around the corner.

 

The next day, he put together a plate with a few cupcakes and made two go-cups of coffee.

“Nat takes hers black, and Bucky takes lots of milk and sugar,” Darcy said, as soon as she'd finished ringing up the latest customer.

Steve cut his eyes at her.

“Want me to finish 'em off, boss?” she asked, very brightly.

“No,” Steve told her, and steamed the milk to go into Bucky's drink, to make sure it would all be nice and hot when he got across the street.

The look on Bucky's face when he sipped deeply and made a happy sound did _not_ warm Steve's heart in the least. 

“I didn't have the stuff to make red velvet,” he explained, pushing the plate of cupcakes across the counter. “I'm sorry. But, uh. These are pretty popular.”

Bucky smiled. “Steve, you're not my baker-on-call. This is really kind of you, thank you.” He unwrapped a cupcake and popped it into his mouth, moaning happily when he tasted the lemon curd center. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. It's nothing special, really.”

“Oooh, treats!” Nat swooped down and swiped one for herself.

“We have coffee, too,” Bucky said, handing her her cup.

“Thank you so much, this is so unexpected,” Nat said politely. And pointedly.

“I, uh, just wanted to thank you for inviting me last night,” Steve said. Shit. Why did he never have plans? He should have come up with an excuse when he had time to think.

Making Bucky smile was not a valid excuse. Right? This time yesterday, they hated each other.

“You're welcome. And I'm sure you didn't want Bucky to feel left out, which is why you brought him stuff too,” Nat said, way too innocently.

Bucky turned and looked at her and she looked back. Bucky didn't look happy.

Nat heaved a sigh and turned back to face Steve. “Thank you. Truly, this is very kind of you, Steve.”

Wait, had Bucky just  _defended_ him from Nat's teasing? Was that what that was? Steve was so done with figuring out people, some days.

“Uh, you're welcome,” he managed.

“Wait!” Bucky said, when he was turning to leave. “I have something for you.” He turned and went over to one of the workbenches that were out in the open, and cut two sprigs of holly off of a single branch that was sitting there.

“These are as local as you can get – they're from my side yard,” Bucky explained with a smile. He pinned one of the sprigs to Steve's apron, and handed him the other.

Bucky's left hand was cool to the touch. Steve's hand lingered as he took the little bundle of leaves. He wanted to warm that hand up. Maybe with kisses.

Shit, his brain some days. He and Bucky were newly on  _speaking terms_ . He had no business going and getting a crush.

“For Darcy,” Bucky said, nodding toward the shiny green leaves. “So you guys can be all Christmassy.”

Steve smiled, slow and sweet. “Thanks, Bucky. See you around?”

“See you around,” Bucky said, and Steve ignored how he elbowed Nat after she sweetly bid him goodbye as well.

 

The next day, Bucky stopped by the shop and bought coffee for himself and Nat. Steve was out on a delivery, but he came in just as Bucky was leaving the shop.

“Stay warm!” Bucky called cheerfully over his shoulder. “We're supposed to get a cold snap tonight!”

“Uh, you too,” Steve said, ignoring how his stomach dipped at Bucky's smile. He hadn't come in to buy coffee before, had he?

“Hey boss,” Darcy said cheerfully. “We got another order. Cookie platter for tonight.”

“Okay,” Steve said. That would be him downstairs with oven all day, then. Staying warm would not be a problem.

“Oh, and Bucky dropped this off for the shop,” she said, nodding over at a small poinsettia. “He was sorry to miss you.”

“Um. That's sweet of him,” Steve said. It was beautiful, and perfectly sized for their counter space.

Maybe he could make a few extra cookies, run some over. Or no – he shouldn't try to feed Bucky too much, chance making him uncomfortable. He'd have to come up with something that would be nice no matter how Bucky felt about food.

“Earth to Steve,” Darcy said, waving her hand in front of his face. “Mothership calling Steve. You have cookies to make?”

“I know, Jesus, give a guy five minutes,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. He was smiling, though, when he headed down to the kitchen.

 

It was a busy few days in the lead-up to Christmas, but somehow Steve and Bucky found excuses to go to the others' shop every day. Bucky brought over a little nosegay that he claimed hadn't been picked up, and Steve spent all night sketching Bucky and Nat's store from memory onto the front of a Christmas card.

“You have it so bad,” Sam said as he signed the card.

“I have it so bad,” Steve agreed.

“He has it bad too,” Sam informed him, handing the card over.

Steve winced. “Nah, don't say that. He's way outta my league.”

Sam snorted. “I am your magical black friend, don't you contradict me. When I tell you he has it bad for you, he has it bad for you.”

Steve sighed noisily, informed Sam that as of that moment in lieu of a Christmas bonus Steve would be making a contribution in Sam's name to the NAACP, and went to deliver the card.

The shit of it, though, was Sam might have been right. Bucky smiled at Steve a _lot_. And flirted with him. And gazed up at Steve through his eyelashes, those steel-blue eyes making Steve's stomach flutter.

Finally, the day before Christmas Eve, Steve brought his last offering – Swedish cinnamon rolls – over.

Nat was behind the counter, dressed in her usual black, but with a Santa hat on in a nod to the season.

“Oooh, more treats!” She took her coffee gratefully, and called over her shoulder. “Bucky! Sweeties are here!”

Bucky appeared in the doorway wearing an identical Santa hat, although he'd opted for a festive green pullover. He'd clearly been working and the sleeves were pushed up his forearms. Steve couldn't miss the silver brace around his left arm when he reached for his coffee.

“Are you okay?” he blurted out, frowning. Had something happened, and he missed it?

“I'm fine,” Bucky assured him, changing course and reaching for Steve's hand instead. “It's bitter out and there's a storm coming, makes my arm hurt and not work super-well. I just need a little bit of extra help is all.”

“Long as that's all,” Steve said, wrapping his hands around Bucky's. The metal was cool, but so was Bucky's skin, and Steve squeezed gently, trying to bring a little warmth to the limb. “Cinnamon buns can be medicinal. Just saying.”

Bucky giggled and turned his wrist – easily, Steve was relieved to notice – and squeezed Steve's hand. “You're a gem. We have something for you too.”

“We do?” Nat may or may not have muttered around her bun, as Bucky darted back into their little workshop. He reappeared with a beautiful wreath, all holly and boxwood, with a red velvet bow at the top. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, honestly touched. “This is really generous of you.”

“Well, you keep bringing us goodies,” Bucky pointed out, still smiling at him as gorgeous as could be.

“Still. Thank you. Both of you,” he said.

“You're welcome,” Nat said. She sounded very innocent, too. There were also two fewer buns than he'd brought with him, Steve noted.

“So,” Bucky said, after an only slightly uncomfortable silence. “You got plans for the holiday?”

Steve shrugged. “I'll cook a nice dinner, I guess. But nothing formal. I'm on my own and all. You?”

Bucky smiled a little. “Not planning to do anything.”

“That's a shame,” Steve said. “Your family out of town, I guess?”

“Uh huh.” Bucky's smile grew. “Also, I'm Jewish.”

“Oh. Yeah, that would do it.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, praying for death. “Shit, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed.”

“S'okay, I'm not hurt or anything.” Bucky matched his grin. “Hey, you wanna come over for a drink tomorrow night? I'll teach you how to play dreidl,” he teased.

Steve laughed, because Bucky thought his being a clod was funny and also they were going to hang out and Steve wasn't going to have to die of total loneliness on Christmas Eve like he'd been planning on. “I'd love to. Should I bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” Bucky said. “Please.”

“Of course. How about you Nat, got any plans?” he asked.

“Yes,” Nat said, and stared at him.

Steve stared back, because he might possibly maybe might have a date in his future, and this emboldened him.

Nat didn't break first, but she did laugh and kiss his cheek and wish him Merry Christmas, and Bucky waved a cheerful goodbye and Steve Rogers headed back to his coffee shop, feeling cautiously, warmly, wonderfully hopeful.

 

The snow had started falling thickly at midday on Christmas Eve, with fat white flakes coming down and quickly coating the world in white. Steve shoveled his front walk every hour, and took care of the neighbors' as well, since he was out there already. Most people on his block were away for the holidays, and he had the cold air and the snow-muffled sounds to himself.

He put on some Christmas music and plugged in the lights around his little tree and tried to read and enjoy the holiday. Mostly, he was lonely, and it was only through pure force of will that he left so that he would be exactly on time to Bucky's, and not a moment earlier.

Bucky buzzed him up, and he went up the winding staircase to the top floor, going through the door that had been cracked open. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve!” Bucky stirred something in a pot and turned the heat down, then went around the breakfast bar to hug Steve hello. “Merry Christmas.”

“Uh, thank you.” Steve blushed and smiled. “Happy belated Hanukkah.”

Bucky grinned at him. “Thanks. C'mon in and warm up,” he said, shutting the door firmly behind Steve and taking his coat. “I made mulled wine and there'll be cookies soon.”

“Did you...make that for me?” Steve asked, still blinking. Bucky's apartment was cozy and smelled like Christmas, for all that it was pretty well bare of decoration. Everything was spare, in cool silver and gray, but it was calming rather than depressing.

“Well, I try not to drink a whole bottle of wine on my own, _bu-ut_...” Bucky teased, and Steve smiled still feeling too-big and kind of out of place.

“Thanks,” he said softly. “Seriously, thank you. It's really nice to, uh, not be alone.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It's really...I'm really looking forward to having an evening with you.”

“Me too,” Bucky said, and ladled some of the fragrant wine into two heavy glass goblets. “C'mon, we can sit in the living room and watch the snow come down.”

“Wow,” Steve said, settling gingerly on a very modern sofa. “I swear it's gotten worse in the last few minutes.”

“There's a real storm on the way,” Bucky agreed. “It's amazing, though. There's an awful lot of _weather_ , to be so silent.”

Steve grinned at him. “Yeah, I know! I was out earlier shoveling and everything was just...I could hear myself breathe, it was so quiet.”

“I don't believe in physical labor, but yeah.” Bucky joked. “And hey, thanks for coming over. It's too quiet here; everyone in the other apartments went away for the holidays.”

And yet Bucky's front walk, and the sidewalk leading to it, had been neatly shoveled. 'Don't believe in physical labor', Steve's ass.

“Tell me about it, my block is dead. Oh, hey, is your arm okay?” Steve asked, frowning. If the storm was on the way...

“Fine,” Bucky said, holding it out. He still had on the silver brace, and Steve could make out a thick scar going up the back of his forearm between the shiny plates. “I won't need this tomorrow, probably.”

“Good,” Steve said softly, and sipped his wine to cover up what a massive dork he was. “So. Um.”

“Shit, small talk,” Bucky deadpanned, and smiled when Steve laughed. “Okay, let's make this as un-painful as possible. Place of birth, number of siblings, college major if any, thing you hate most about customers. Go!”

Steve started laughing halfway through Bucky's list, and shook his head “Uh. Okay, Brooklyn, none, fine arts, the people who clearly just want to feel more important than someone who works in a coffee shop. You?”

“Shit, what did I say they were?” Bucky asked, and bit his lip and was adorable. “Okay, um. Shelbyville, Indiana. Three sisters. Horticulture, and finally the people who act like having fresh exotic flowers is their divine right.” He smiled a little. “People are gonna be _pissed_ that I'm closed today and tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “But they can go fuck themselves. You and Nat deserve a holiday too.”

“As do you and Darcy,” Bucky said.

“And Sam – you haven't met him, I guess?” Steve said. “He does my pastries and breads.”

“I haven't met him, but I love him,” Bucky said solemnly, and winked. “Hey, cookies are probably done. C'mon, and you can quietly judge me in your mind.”

“I wouldn't...okay,” Steve admitted. “Sorry.”

“Eh, it's fine, I do it to other people,” Bucky said, pulling the pan out of the oven. He levered a few of the thin, sugar-decorated sand tarts free with a spatula, and gave one to Steve. “Taste, this is the first time I've made these.”

“They're good,” Steve assured him, and they were. Crunchy and sweet and buttery, and the two of them feasted away. Steve tried hard not to think about what was in them – Bucky had definitely used white sugar and white flour, and it's not like they were evil things. They _weren't_. And a few cookies at Christmas wouldn't hurt him any.

“I should have made something healthier, shouldn't I?” Bucky asked quietly, stopping halfway through a star-shaped sand tart.

“No! Jesus, no, Buck. These are perfect.” Steve smiled weakly at him. “I'm sorry.”

“Me too.” Bucky smiled, and visibly rallied. “C'mon, top up your wine, there's plenty. I want to watch the snow some more with you.” Dark had fallen hours ago, of course, but the snow was visible under the streetlights, now deep and thick on the earth.

“Yeah,” Steve said, quietly glad to leave the treats behind after a few. Except for the part where he noticed that Bucky had left his half a cookie behind, and it felt like he'd been stabbed in the heart. Was he literally going to ruin everything for this amazing guy?

Steve was silent when he settled on the edge of the sofa again, Bucky across from him, curled up in an easy chair. It was cheery in the apartment, and Bucky fiddled with an ipad until Nat King Cole came on, crooning Christmas songs.

“Oh,” Steve said, looking up from his admittedly self-induced misery. “This was my mother's favorite. She played it all the time when I was little.”

“That's awesome!” Bucky smiled quickly, and looked down. “I, uh. Just picked a random Christmas album,” he admitted.

“And made me cookies, and wine,” Steve said, ducking his head to meet Bucky's gaze. They could make this work. “Thank you. This is really, really kind of you.”

“Aw, it's fine.” Bucky smiled shyly at him. “Hey. Will you teach me what you do like to eat? I want to make stuff I know you'll enjoy.”

“I'll like anything you make me,” Steve said without thinking.

Bucky laughed. “I'm serious!”

“So am I!” Steve huffed, and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, that's...look, you know what? Come over for dinner soon.” He smiled shyly. “If you can stand to be around me after tonight, I mean. I'll make us one of my standby dishes, so you can get an idea of what I like to eat.”

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“You pick the night,” Steve said. “I mean, you live just around the corner.”

Bucky brightened considerably. “Seriously?”

Steve mentally congratulated himself on not being a dick for forty-five seconds. “Seriously. Anytime, for real. I usually make enough for two anyway.”

Bucky's smile grew. “I'd love that.”

“Me too.” 

The latest tension cleared, Steve took a sip of his wine, savoring the spices, and the slight spin to his head now.

“So. Are we friends now?” Bucky asked, after a long pause while they'd both been mesmerized by the wind whipping into a real blizzard.

“Yeah. I mean. I'd like to be.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Bucky said quietly.

“Um. Good?” Steve offered, and Bucky laughed, setting his empty glass aside.

“Good?” he echoed, and smiled at Steve. You want more wine?”

“I shouldn't,” Steve demurred. Two glasses of wine, even as good as this was...oh, hell, it was Christmas. “Not right now, but later?”

“I'll keep it on the stove,” Bucky promised, getting up. “Oh, hey. I'm a pretty blank slate – is there anything really Christmassy you want to do?”

Steve flopped back on the sofa to watch Bucky get himself a glass of water and – oh, oh that was good sight right there, watching him finish off his cookie from earlier.

(Bucky would taste like spiced wine and sweet sugar, Steve tried very hard not to think.)

“I don't know,” he admitted. “Um. The music, I remember that. And I remember watching the old Claymation stuff with my dad when I was really tiny. And decorating a tree with Mom, but I already did that.”

Bucky smiled softly at him, and came over to sit on the far end of the sofa, but still closer to Steve than he had been before. “We can find the movies, definitely.”

“I don't...have much,” Steve admitted. “My parents passed away when I was pretty young still, and I kind of bounced around relatives and foster parents and shit like that.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky said, and he sounded like he meant it. “How old were you?”

“I was seven when Dad passed away. Fourteen with Mom.”

“Shit. Oh, fuck, Steve. I'm sorry, that's terrible,” Bucky said, and reached out, then hesitated, and pulled his hand back.

“You can touch, death isn't catching,” Steve snapped without thinking.

“For the fuck of shit, I know that,” Bucky snapped right back. “I didn't know if you wanted to be touched, you know?”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled.

“Me too,” Bucky sighed. “Okay, so we've got old movies, old music. What about stuff you do now that you're grown up?”

Steve's blinked at him. He had literally just been an enormous dick to this guy. “Bucky, are you serious?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I'm _Jewish_. I don't know what the fuck you Gentiles do these days. _My_ Christmas traditions all involve going and getting Chinese food.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I'm a huge asshole to you, and you make a joke.” He shook his head, refusing to cry at human kindness. “Bucky, anything you want to do is fine.”

“Yeah, but I wanna make _you_ happy,” he said. “It's your holiday.”

“Nah,” Steve said softly. “It's a night we're hanging out together. I don't really celebrate Christmas,” he confessed. “I have a tree and stuff but...” He shrugged. “It's a shitty holiday when you're alone,” he said, and the wine must have been working overtime, because he felt tears prickle in his eyes, and then something considerably stronger, and then he was _crying_ , because he should never have come over and endangered the slow beginnings of friendship. He and Bucky just kept stepping in it with each other.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, his hand warm and heavy on Steve's shoulder. “No, no--”

He was cut off by the lights going dark, and the conspicuous lack of hum in the apartment.

“Shit,” Bucky said.

Steve wiped his eyes and sat up. “Wind must've cut the power.” He wiped his eyes again, and jumped a little, when Bucky's arm draped over his shoulders.

“Oh, Steve. Hey, don't be too sad, you're not alone this year. And it's Christmas, you can't be sad on Christmas,” he teased.

“It's Christmas _Eve_ ,” Steve said, and sniffled.

“Only you would be pedantic right now,” Bucky said fondly. He pulled Steve into a hug, moving his left arm carefully, but definitely using it. “My point still stands.” He rubbed Steve's back. “You're allowed to be sad on the twenty-sixth, but not tonight or tomorrow.”

“I'm not?” Steve laughed and sniffled again.

“Nope. Not on my watch.” Bucky pulled back and smiled at him, barely visible in the dim light. “C'mon. I have candles.” He smiled slyly. “If you can stand to look at me now.”

“Oh _no_ , she didn't say I'd said that,” Steve said, real horror in his voice. “I didn't mean --”

“Yeah you did, but I forgive you,” Bucky said, and stood up. “C'mon. They're not fair trade soy or whatever, but they'll do.”

“I'm sorry,” Steve said awkwardly, trailing Bucky through the kitchen by the light of his cellphone. “I'm not...I'm trying to not be such a dick about stuff like that.”

“I'm sorry too. I have stuff I'm a dick about too,” Bucky said, finding the long pillar candles and handing them to Steve. “D'you mind carrying them?”

“'Course not,” Steve said, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“What?”

“You ask for help so easily,” Steve blurted out. “I never could. I mean. I'm really bad at it.”

“You don't say,” Bucky said, leading them back to the living room. He gestured to Steve to set the candles on a low glass table and lit them, then curled up on the sofa. “Grab a blanket, this place doesn't always hold heat really well.”

“Yeah, neither does my place,” Steve admitted, and wrapped himself up in a soft, knitted blanket. Bucky did the same, snuggling into one corner of the sofa. So Steve snuggled into the other, their feet just touching in the middle.

“It's always been easy, when it comes to my arm,” Bucky said softly. “That was just an accident. It wasn't my fault, so...it was okay. And it's not really that bad, usually.” He shrugged. “I got really lucky.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, just as softly. “I'm sorry you got hurt, but I'm glad it's okay.”

Bucky smiled sadly at him. “Thanks. Um. I mean. I have other stuff I'm bad about asking for help with.”

“Well, I'm bad about asking for help with _everything_ , so I got you beat there,” Steve said, and was pleased when Bucky laughed.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Just...oh my God. Nat was right, we're both competitive little fucks.” He smiled shyly. “I have an eating disorder and I have trouble dealing with it sometimes.”

“Oh, honey.” Steve touched his socked feet to Bucky's. “I have depression. I. Uh. Okay, just so you don't freak out, do you know the difference between feeling suicidal and actually making _plans_?”

Bucky nodded.

“I don't make plans anymore. But, yeah.” Steve gave him a funny little smile. “In addition to all the physical stuff. And also my charming personality.”

“Hey, you're too hard on yourself.” Bucky caught his eyes and smiled. “You're a nice guy, Steve, when you calm down a little.”

“So're you.”

Bucky laughed. “That's fair.” He nudged Steve's toes with his. “I'm sorry I was a dick about your vegan cake.”

“It was pretty bad,” Steve admitted. “The recipe needed tweaking. I'm...I'm sorry, Bucky. That I was really rude to you, when you were just being nice. And I'm sorry if I made food stuff harder for you.”

“Thanks.” Bucky curled up a little tighter in his blanket nest. “Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends.” Steve smiled and moved to his knees. “C'mon, hug it out. You know you want to.”

Bucky giggled and moved to kneel too, folding himself up so his arms went around Steve's waist, and Steve's arms, and his blanket, wrapped around Bucky.

“Mmm, warm,” Bucky sighed.

“Oh my God! Bucky, you're frozen!” Steve hauled him a little closer, Bucky's cool face pressed against his. “How did you get so cold?”

“Always been like this,” Bucky murmured, tucking his face on Steve's shoulder. “God, you're a furnace.”

“Stay like this for awhile,” Steve said, starting to fret. Get your feet in here – yeah, like that. Oh, Buck.”

Bucky giggled. “I'm not gonna freeze to death.”

“No, but you could get sick. And it can't be nice for you.” Steve rubbed his back briskly. 

“This is pretty nice,” Bucky said, laughing when Steve tucked Bucky's hands against his chest. “You're overprotective! Oh my God, of course you are.”

“Hell yeah I am.” Steve shifted a blanket corner to cover Bucky a little more. “I'm a shitty friend, but I try.”

“Don't say that.” Bucky's voice was firm, serious. “You're not a shitty friend at all.”

“Bucky, all we've done is be dicks to each other since we met.”

Bucky giggled, and he wormed his arms around Steve's waist, snuggling closer to the human furnace. “Well, yeah. That's on me, too.” He rested his head on Steve's shoulder. “You're good to Darcy, and Nat. You're being really good to  _me_ . You care about people. You want them to be healthy, and have good food. You want to make the world better. I know your type, Steven Rogers. You care so much about everyone.”

“Thanks,” Steve rasped, and cleared his throat. “Um. I try.”

Bucky hugged him tightly. “You succeed. Don't let us being assholes get in the way of knowing you're a good person, okay?”

Steve just shrugged, but Bucky decided to take it.

 

They cuddled – might as well call it what it was – by candlelight for a few more hours, listening to the storm. The wind beat against Bucky's windows, once hard enough to make him flinch, and Steve had hugged him a little more tightly for a moment, cradling him close. “Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, and Steve hushed him. They talked quietly; Bucky told Steve about his Hanukkah, and Steve told Bucky about moving to their little town from Brooklyn, all the good and the bad of that.

“Look,” Bucky said suddenly, when it was late and they were stifling yawns. “Stay here tonight. It's obscene outside, even if you are just going around the corner. And it's probably warmer here than at your place.”

Considering how low he kept his heat when he wasn't home (and even when he was), Steve conceded the point. Bucky's apartment was just above actually chilly, but with them huddled together under blankets, it was okay.

“Good. C'mon, I can lend you pyjamas,” Bucky said, wriggling free and standing up, his blanket still around his shoulders. He held his hand out. “My bedroom's in the back and had, like, one tiny sad window, so maybe that'll help hold the heat.”

“You want to share your bed?” Steve asked, because he was an idiot.

“Well, yeah. That's the point, so we conserve body heat. Or, let's be honest, so I can live off your body heat,” Bucky admitted.

Steve laughed out loud and reached for a hug, tucking Bucky's face against his shoulder. It was still warm, thank God. “Okay, point. C'mon, then, let's see how bad it is.”

The answer was 'bad, but not awful', at least. Bucky was shivering by the time he finished changing, and Steve promptly wrapped him up tightly in the blanket and tucked him into bed, crawling in beside him.

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” he asked, starting to worry. This man might have been made of winter.

Bucky nodded and cuddled a little closer. “Of course. I'm sorry, I just...I've always been like this. It mostly doesn't bother me, if that helps?”

Steve paused. “So would you say...the cold never bothered you anyway?”

“Get out of my house.”

Steve laughed at himself for whole _minutes_.

“Oh God, you think you're _clever_ ,” Bucky groaned.

“I'm brilliant,” Steve informed him, and rubbed Bucky's back, then tucked the thick comforter around them a little better.

Bucky yawned and gave a little wriggle. “You're not funny at  _all_ ,” he said, and Steve laughed softly.

“Yeah I am,” he whispered, and tucked Bucky's face into his shoulder, making sure he was toasty and warm.

“Not,” Bucky mumbled, and his breathing almost immediately deepened.

Steve fussed over him a little bit more – Bucky had an electric blanket that obviously wasn't working, but it wasn't a particularly bad  _blanket_ , and if the power did go back on Steve wanted to make sure that it would be in place to keep Bucky warm and happy.

He tucked a few more things into place, and smiled into the top of Bucky's head. His hair was, of course, soft and smelled wonderful, because everything was absolutely terrible and Steve Rogers had it  _bad_ for the guy he couldn't stand to be on the same street with just a week ago.

And with that, Steve fell asleep.

 

“Gyahhh!”

The yelp of surprise had Steve sitting bolt upright, his eyes flying open.

“Augh!” It was very, very bright. And someone was making noise. And he was pretty sure he was in a strange bedroom and he _did not like_ the brightness and the noise and the strangeness and what. was. happening.

“Fuck!”

Steve eased his eyes open and remembered that he was at Bucky's, and the power must have come back on and Bucky's bedroom was lit up and Bucky was very, very awake.

“Power's back on,” Steve noted.

“I fucking got that!” Bucky yelped, and rolled over, squirming away from his nightstand. “Ow. Light. Fuck everything. _Candles_ don't do this shit to you. I'm going off-grid Steve, it's the only way.”

Steve was laughing so hard he almost didn't notice that he had his arms around Bucky again, and then Bucky burrowed a little further out of his blanket burrito, his thick hair wild around his face.

“Oh my God, you cutie,” Steve said, giggling harder.

“Shut _up_ ,” Bucky wailed, and Steve laughed again, and touched his hand to Bucky's face. His skin was warm to the touch, thank God.

Bucky leaned into his palm and smiled at him and Steve didn't hesitate. It was the most obvious thing in the world to lean in and kiss Bucky Barnes, right there in the brightly-lit bedroom at 3 AM on Christmas Day.

Bucky kissed back, his mouth warm and soft under Steve's, the stubble on his face deliciously scratchy. Steve made a soft little noise, and dropped his jaw, their mouths opening together.

Bucky drew away and cursed, and sighed. “Can you please unwrap me? I'm stuck.”

Steve lay back and laughed so hard he cried.

“You are a _dick_ ,” Bucky informed him, which was why Steve was still giggling even as he helped Bucky free from the tightly-wrapped blanket. 

He draped the soft fabric around Bucky's shoulders, though, and drew him into a hug. “It'll take a minute for the heat to kick in.”

“So that means _you'll_ get out of bed to hit the lights?” Bucky asked, grinning up at him. “They're right by the door.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he crawled out from under the covers to hit the lights. The room was lit only by the soft glow of a distant street lamp, everything dim and shadowy, as it should be in the secret time of the night.

“Hi,” Bucky said when Steve came back to bed. “Um. So about the kissing.”

Steve squirmed a little closer. “About the kissing,” he agreed.

“I liked it,” Bucky said softly. “A lot.”

“Me too.”

“Almost as much as I like you,” Bucky said, and Steve laughed out loud.

“That's your _line_?”

“I mean, you're in my bed, I have the electric blanket, and you just turned out the lights when I asked you to,” Bucky pointed out. “I think comments about my _line_ can be ignored.”

“You fuckin' pedant.” Steve slipped his arms around Bucky, gentle and giving him plenty of room. “Is this okay?”

“This is wonderful,” Bucky assured him, cuddling a little closer. “Can I kiss you, Steve?”

“Please?”

Bucky giggled softly and found Steve's mouth in the dark, soft lips coming together, the kiss more tender than he had originally intended. But this sweet man who cared  _so much_ – God, Bucky had been an asshole.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out, when the kiss ended. “Steve, I'm so sorry, I've been a complete dick to you.”

Steve smiled, and Bucky felt a warm little kiss on his cheek. “I was a complete dick back to you. I'm sorry too, honey.”

“Honey?”

“Honey.” Steve laughed, and hugged Bucky again. “You warm enough?”

“Uh huh. Thanks.” Bucky yawned. “F'r real, though. I'm glad we got over ourselves.”

“Amen to that,” Steve agreed, and pulled the thick quilt up a little higher. “Fall back asleep, Buck. I'll still be here in the morning.”

“Not yet.” Bucky wormed his arms around Steve's waist. “Don't want to sleep yet, I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve said, and leaned in for another little kiss, which turned into a longer kiss. 

“I'm really bad with people,” Steve said softly, when the kiss had ended, but he still held Bucky in his arms. “I would watch you charm everyone. And not understand.”

“You're so _precise_ ,” Bucky said, and smiled. “And you look perfect. I assumed you had some perfect life, too, and I hated you for it.”

Steve snorted.

Bucky's fingertips were soft, stroking Steve's face. “Your body is so gorgeous.”

“So is yours.”

Bucky shrugged. “I guess.”

“It is.” Steve trailed kisses from Bucky's cheek all the way down his neck, out to his shoulder, tasting the swell of muscle under sleep-warmed soft fabric. “Objectively, you're very attractive. And you, yourself, who you are is so beautiful, honey.”

“We barely know each other,” Bucky managed, his voice rough.

“I know. It's going to be great, Buck. We have so much to learn.”

Bucky smiled at that, and snuggled closer, tucking his head under Steve's chin. “You're right, it's awesome. What's your favorite color?”

“Blue. What's your favorite flower?”

Bucky paused. “Shit, I have to pick  _one_ ? Uh.”

Steve giggled.

“Fuck you! Okay.” Bucky wormed his hand up Steve's shirt, tickling his back a little. “Red poppies.”

“Why them?” Steve asked, fascinated.

“They're blowsy and dramatic, like me. They're gorgeous, though.”

Steve tightened his arms around Bucky, just a touch. This man was  _so_ gorgeous.

“They're so intertwined with people, in ways no one realizes. Poppy seeds, of course, and poppies to mark a battlefield – in Flanders fields the poppies grow, and all that. They mark some of the worst parts of human history, the first World War, and the opium wars. They produce a drug that can cause great harm, but can take your pain away too.” Bucky giggled. “Sorry, I'm lecturing. Just...it's a flower no one much thinks about, but it's a big part of humanity, in so many ways. I love that.”

“That is _amazing_ ,” Steve said. “You're amazing. Bucky, that's so cool.”

Bucky just shrugged. “What's your, uh...favorite thing to bake?” he asked.

“Apple pie,” Steve said, no hesitation. “It was my mother's favorite, and she taught me how to make it. It makes me think of growing up. It makes _everyone_ think about growing up, and Thanksgiving, and good things like that. Even people who don't eat pie love the smell of it.”

“You make people so happy,” Bucky observed.

“So do you.”

Bucky giggled. “You should see how many last-minute orders we get from someone who pissed off their spouse.”

Steve laughed. “I have seen four couples break up in my shop, with my own eyes.”

“Stop, you're gonna jinx us!” Bucky yelped, covering Steve's mouth with his fingers.

Steve kissed them, pleased to find them still warm – and Bucky's bad arm, too. He tucked the quilt around Bucky a hair more closely anyway. “So we have something to jinx?”

“I think so.” Bucky kissed just under Steve's jaw. “I want to have something to jinx. I like you a lot, Steve Rogers. I want to kiss you a lot, too.”

“Same here. On all counts.” Steve tilted Bucky's head back and kissed him. “I would love to have something with you.”

Bucky's smile was huge and beautiful. “Nat and Darcy are going to be so smug.”

“Let them be smug all they want. I got a great boyfriend to distract me.”

Bucky giggled at that, and kissed Steve, brief but sweet. “Me too.” Another kiss. “I'm gonna say this fast, because it's mushy as hell, but also kinda true. When I was growing up, I was one of like three Jewish kids in my whole town. Hanukkah's great, don't get me wrong! I love my religion and its traditions. But I always really, really wanted a Christmas present, 'cause that's what everyone else got.” He took a deep breath. “And now I got one. I got a sweet, funny, hot boyfriend, and it's Christmas, so there.”

“You're right,” Steve said. “That's absolutely mushy as hell.”

“Never tell anyone that those were actual words that came out of my mouth.”

“Never,” Steve promised, and kissed Bucky softly. “You can unwrap me on Christmas morning.”

Bucky groaned and shoved Steve away, who laughed like the asshole he was. “No, seriously!” Steve said, and yawned. “I'll still be here, obviously.”

“Good.” Bucky smiled, and kissed his cheek. “Sleepy boy. I'll stop talking at you now.”

“Your voice is so nice. Talk at me all you want,” Steve murmured, snuggling down.

Bucky laughed softly. “Shh, go to sleep. Santa has to come and leave you a present, and he can't do that if you're awake.”

“Already got my present,” Steve informed him, giving Bucky a firm hug.

“Ew.”

Steve giggled, and tucked his face against Bucky's neck. He smelled  _so good_ . “Sweet dreams, honey.”

“You too. Honey.” And Steve drifted off to Bucky running his fingers through Steve's hair.

 

 

Epilogue One:

 

The next morning Bucky Barnes unwrapped his Christmas present with immense enthusiasm. So did Steve Rogers.

 

 

Epilogue Two:

 

“Try this,” Steve said, and unwrapped the mini cupcake. “They're new for spring.”

Bucky opened his mouth, already smiling, when Steve popped in the still-warm treat. “Ummm. Lavender! Nice.”

Steve smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. “Good. I'll leave a few more here for you guys.”

“Thanks, honey,” Bucky said softly, and Steve kissed him again. Bucky had been eating so much better; he had a better therapist and was working so hard. Steve only rarely had to make him protein shakes, or cuddle and watch TV with him while he licked a spoonful of peanut butter.

“Here,” Bucky said, and turned to a side counter, coming back with a sprig of lily-of-the-valley. He pinned it to the strap of Steve's apron. “Happy Spring, love.”

Steve's smile was utterly ridiculous, but then so was Bucky's probably. “Love you, Buck.”

“Love you too.”

Nat came out from the back, sighed, and reached for the plain water sprayer. “I will use this, boys.”

“You think we're cute,” Bucky informed her. “You're so glad that I've got someone. Frankly, you'd have been thrilled that Steve and I didn't loathe each other anymore.”

“I am never telling Darcy anything again,” Nat said darkly, while Steve presented her with a tiny cupcake. “Oooh!”

Bucky laughed, watching her eat, and leaned across the counter to kiss Steve's shoulder. “See you after work, babe?”

“I'll come over here when I'm done,” Steve promised. “Make sure you leave at some point.”

“You're right, I do like him,” Nat informed Bucky. “Also, bring more cupcakes?”

“Of course.” Steve kissed Bucky again, winked at Nat, and headed back to work.

“Loser,” Nat informed him.

“My boyfriend supplies you with cake like every day,” Bucky pointed out.

He smiled as Nat glared at him and headed back to the arrangement she was doing in the back. There was a thread of warmth in the air, the promise of spring. He and Steve would have to start planning for summer – maybe get away from their businesses for a few days and go do something fun, just the two of them.

That was the future, though. For the moment, Bucky sold a nervous teenaged girl a bouquet of roses for her girlfriend, and treated himself to watching Steve wash his shop's windows.

**Author's Note:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


End file.
